


The Trouble With Fiddles

by looneymoony



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, M/M, Monsters, ahhhhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:19:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5132429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/looneymoony/pseuds/looneymoony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Star Trek fans that also have access to unworldly powers are dangerous and should be stopped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trouble With Fiddles

**Author's Note:**

> Originally Written: October 4, 2015  
> Tumblr Source: http://looneymoonyreblog.tumblr.com/post/130476656156/oh-my-god-fidds-breaking-his-banjo-in  
> Written in response to a prompt, as follows:  
> "Fiddauthor prompt: ford having a monster accidentally breaking out and Fiddleford breaking his banjo to get rid of the monster and Ford giving him a new one for feeling Quilty for Fidds banjo being broken due to the Monster he didn't watch (im sorry this was long and or if it has been used before)"  
> oh my god. fidds breaking his banjo in heart-wrenching romance is my aesthetic. i’ll call it: "the trouble with fiddles"

Fiddleford sighed contentedly as he stood over the stove in the kitchen. The warm sizzle of bacon brought a smile to his face and he ushered some onto a plate for himself. He also prepared a second plate, but as he looked around and saw that he was alone, he instead set it aside for when he was no longer without company.

He sat himself down at the table and peered out the window. Rain was pouring rather dramatically, and the scientist remembered hearing news of thunderstorms over the radio. A shiver ran down his spine, and he munched on his breakfast to distract himself. However, for some reason, he found that he’d lost his appetite.

The young man pushed himself up and stretched his arms above his head, his hands lightly brushing the ceiling at his full height. What exactly his partner was up to, he couldn’t say - he had a tendency to spend all night working, even long after Fiddleford had gone to bed. Likely, he was in the basement at that moment, puttering away at a complex theorem or a particular piece of mach-

The door to the kitchen slammed open. “GET TO HIGH GROUND! DON’T LET IT EAT YOUR SKIN!” Stanford flew into the kitchen, running straight for the cabinets and throwing them open. He grabbed an electric mixer, but then tossed it over his shoulder. Fiddleford stood dumbfounded.

“Stanford, what in tarnation is going on?” he demanded. Stanford turned and grasped his friend’s shoulders firmly.

“Fiddleford, if this is the end, I just wanted to let you know that your nose is the perfect size and Lazy Susan had no idea what she was talking about.” Then, to Fiddleford’s surprise, he forced a kiss on the side of his cheek and patted him on the back. Fiddleford’s face flushed deeply, but was still confused.

“I… I don’t… what?!”

As if on cue, the sound of growling came from the kitchen doorway as both men turned in fear to face five tiny hairy creatures. They almost looked like little people, but had huge, sharp teeth and eyes, and reminded Fiddleford more of goblins than humans. They squatted snarling in the doorway, drool dripping out of their jowls and onto the floor.

Stanford squeaked. “There they are! Run! Forget about high ground, these things can climb like spiders! All we can do is run!!” he turned to sprint in the opposite direction, but collided head-on with the wall instead. Fiddleford backed up slowly as the creatures approached him.

“Stanford, what the hell are these things!?” he asked, reaching for the nearest object. He picked up a wooden spoon and chucked it at a monster, who grunted but was otherwise unfazed.

“I have no idea! I was just working in the basement when they just attacked me out of nowhere!” Stanford paused as Fiddleford continued swinging a ladle at the creatures. “Well,  _it_  attacked me. There was only one to start.”

“Only one?” one of the monsters lunged forward and Fiddleford yelped, hopping up onto the counter. “Well, where did the other ones come from?!”

“I… it kind of… duplicated after I tried to feed it my candy?” Stanford grimaced as his partner glared at him.

“For God’s sake, Stanford, didn’t you ever see that episode of Star Trek? You don’t just feed mysterious critters! What were you thinking, I - these things aren’t even deceptively cute!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry!”

“Well, don’t just stand there! Do something!”

“Uhhh…” the scientist glanced around. “Here! Catch!”

Fiddleford jumped as he caught the unexpected flying object with most of his body. Taking a look, he saw that it was…

“My  _banjo_!?” the creatures were getting closer. Fiddleford kicked at them half-heartedly. “This is an _instrument_ , Stanford!”

“It can be used as an instrument of mass destruction, too! Just start swinging it!” Stanford continued rummaging through the cabinets.

Fiddleford whimpered. “I swear to God, if we get out of this alive…” he closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and swung with all his might.

He completely missed.

“You’re supposed to  _hit_  the monster!” said Stanford.

“Well, I don’t see YOU being very helpful!” yelled McGucket. One of the monsters leaped up towards him, only to be bludgeoned repeatedly on the head with the neck of the banjo. The monster howled in pain.

“Haha, yes! That’s more like it! Keep it up, I’m almost ready over here!” Stanford was… mixing something? It was difficult to see. Another creature attacked. Fiddleford swung the banjo from the neck like a baseball bat, and his adversary flew across the room like a baseball.

“Whatever you’re doing, hurry  _up_ , would you?! I am not in the mood to die today!” the monster on the other side of the room stumbled back onto its feet and rejoined its brethren. Finally, one of the creatures went straight for Fiddleford’s face. He screamed and slammed the banjo over the head of the monster, shattering the instrument into pieces and knocking the critter unconscious.

“Hey, gremlins! Look what I’ve got!” Stanford called. The monsters all turned to see the man offering out a massive bowl of peppermints. Losing all interest in their former prey, the four remaining monsters all ran over and began wolfing down the candy.

“Are you out of your  _mind_?! Don’t feed them, that’s what got us into this mess in the first place!” Fiddleford hollered.

“It’s alright, I know what I’m doing!” said Stanford. He tossed some more of the candy to the monsters. “Yes, that’s it. Eat it all up.”

Fiddleford covered his face with his hands. “I can’t believe this. This can’t be happening. I’m going to die, and it’s on the same day that this man finally kisses me.”

Stanford groaned. “Would you calm down? It’s all under control!” He poured the rest of the candy onto the floor.

“I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I can’t even play my death song, because my banjo is in smithereens. If there is a God, please be merciful and take me now,” Fiddleford closed his eyes and hugged his knees.

Nothing happened.

The room was suddenly very quiet. The snarfing noises that the monsters had been making were gone. All that was left was the beating of his own heart. He opened one eye, and looked up to see Stanford smiling down at him. “I told you it was all under control.”

Fiddleford looked down over his knees and saw four imps lying motionless on the ground. He gasped, relieved but also shocked. “Jesus Christ, Stanford, what did you do?”

“It was just like you said - Star Trek. All I had to do was poison the grain,” he said with a smirk.

“Yeah, but, you  _killed_  them? That’s pretty sick!” Fiddleford clutched his stomach.

Stanford chuckled meekly. “No, no, I didn’t  _kill_  them. I just doused that candy with ketamine.” he handed his friend a bottle of the anesthetic. “See?”

Fiddleford sat still, studying the bottle. “And you were so scared. Come on, I knew right from the start that we’d be alright. You were just so -”

Stanford was interrupted by the sound of his partner sniffling. He looked down, heart sinking at the sight of him holding his banjo in pieces. The scientist met his gaze, eyes watering with tears. “I… I thought I was going to die…” he grimaced and wiped away his tears, pushing himself off of the counter. Stanford reached out to comfort him, but Fiddleford swatted his hand away. 

“I need to be alone right now,” he said. He exited the room without another word, leaving Stanford alone with five unconscious monsters and a broken banjo.

* * *

 

A soft knock came from the opposite side of the door. Fiddleford sighed. “Come in,” he said quietly.

No response.

Another knock.

“I said you can come  _in_ ,” he called out, a little louder. Stanford entered his friend’s bedroom and closed the door behind him, clearly flustered. He stood still for a moment. Fiddleford did not look up from the book that he was reading. Finally, he crossed over to his partner and sat on the foot of his bed, laying down a rather large box that he was holding next to him.

“I, uh… I wanted to say that I’m sorry. For earlier, I mean,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I really let things get out of hand, and I should’ve been more sensitive. I didn’t mean for it to be like this.”

Fiddleford scoffed, turning a page of his book. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that you  _meant_  anything to turn out the way it did. The world really ought to learn to just stick to your plans from now on, don’t you think?”

Stanford opened his mouth to retort in anger, but closed it. He deserved that. “I… I got you something, if you want to see,” he said, picking up the box. Fiddleford did not reply. Stanford bit his lip. “I know it’s not the same, and it won’t make up for what I did, but I thought it was the least i could do,” he held out the package to his friend, who looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. Reluctantly, he took the box and opened it. Inside was a shiny new banjo.

“I-if it’s not the kind you like, I can bring it back and get a different type. It’s just the only one I could find on such short notice. And again, I know it won’t make up for the stunt that I pulled earlier, but I just couldn’t bear the thought that you’d have to go even a day without playing your banjo, y’know?” Fiddleford had taken the instrument out of its case and was turning it over gently in his hands. Stanford licked his lips and swallowed. “So? Wh…what do you think?”

The scientist looked up at his employer with a grin. “It’s perfect, Stanford. Thank you,” he leaned forward and gave him a peck on the cheek. Stanford blushed beet red as Fiddleford stood up. “I made some bacon for you this mornin’. I reckon it’s cold by now, but you can still eat it if ya want. I’m gonna go tune this thing up. I’d really appreciate it if you could put those monsters outside instead of in the basement. We don’t want ‘em gettin’ loose again,” He paused in the doorway. “That won’t be too much tribble for ya, will it?”

Stanford fell face-first onto the bedspread and squealed.


End file.
